Of his pris’d horse, and made them stir; and then he prostrate fell. His horse Antilochus took home. When Hector had heard tell, Amongst the uproar, of their deaths, he laid out all his voice, And ran upon the Greeks. Behind came many men of choice, Before him march’d great Mars himself match’d with his female mate, The dread Bellona. She brought on, to fight for mutual fate, A tumult that was wild and mad. He shook a horrid lance, And now led Hector, and anon behind would make the chance. This sight when great Tydides saw, his hair stood up on end; And him, whom all the skill and pow’r of arms did late attend, Now like a man in counsel poor, that, travelling, goes amiss, And having pass’d a boundless plain, not knowing where he is, Comes on the sudden where he sees a river rough, and raves With his own billows ravishéd into the king of waves, Murmurs with foam, and frights him back; so he, amaz’d, retir’d, And thus would make good his amaze: “O friends, we all admir’d Great Hector, as one of himself, well-darting, bold in war, When some God guards him still from death, and makes him dare so far. Now Mars himself, form’d like a man, is present in his rage, And therefore, whatsoever cause importunes you to wage War with these Trojans, never strive, but gently take your rod, Lest in your bosoms, for a man, ye ever find a God.” As Greece retir’d, the pow’r of Troy did much more forward prease, And Hector two brave men of war sent to the fields of peace; Menesthes, and Anchialus; one chariot bare them both. Their falls made Ajax Telamon ruthful of heart, and wroth Who lighten’d out a lance that smote Amphius Selages, That dwelt in Pæsos, rich in lands, and did huge goods possess, But Fate, to Priam and his sons, conducted his supply. The jav’lin on his girdle strook, and piercéd mortally His belly’s lower part; he fell: his arms had looks so trim, That Ajax needs would prove their spoil; the Trojans pour’d on him Whole storms of lances, large, and sharp, of which a number stuck In his rough shield; yet from the slain he did his jav’lin pluck, But could not from his shoulders force the arms he did affect, The Trojans with such drifts of darts the body did protect; And wisely Telamonius fear’d their valorous defence, So many, and so strong of hand, stood in with such expense Of deadly prowess; who repell’d, though big, strong, bold, he were, The famous Ajax, and their friend did from his rapture bear. Thus this place fill’d with strength of fight; in th’ army’s other prease, Tlepolemus, a tall big man, the son of Hercules, A cruel destiny inspir’d, with strong desire to prove Encounter with Sarpedon’s strength, the son of cloudy Jove; Who, coming on to that stern end, had chosen him his foe. Thus Jove’s great nephew, and his son, ’gainst one another go. Tlepolemus, to make his end more worth the will of fate, Began as if he had her pow’r, and show’d the mortal state Of too much confidence in man, with this superfluous brave: